Posted in New Work, Poetry

Flight School

Clock always ticking
but I can’t catch the
rhythm in its

I’m always just a little off.

Hours keep hostages;
Small cells into which are squeezed
essential bits of life.

But I don’t like the constraints;
[To be] ensnared in eternal judgment
by encroachments
of minute captivity
where there are always seconds…

Perpetual measures, calculated waste.

If time binds us,
then how too
can it leave us behind?

Freedom is timeless,
yet, time is priceless.
And still, flight is precious –
I’m justย learning to fly.



20 December 2019


Curating Personal Year 9. Wife and mom of 3. Writer. Zentrovert. Aspiring Engineer. Resident Badass.

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